Vitality
by venomistress
Summary: "I only saw the world in black and white. Things got too complicated when I tried to see gray, so I stuck to what I knew." Set in Boston during the early 1770's. Early chapters contain cameos from a few important characters in the game, but it's mostly centered around Tori and Connor. In OC's POV.
1. Chapter 1

I was my father's daughter from the day I was born. In personality as well as appearance, I was the child of Caleb Whitaker. The only girl out of the four of us, I was also the only one to inherit Father's brown eyes and dark hair as opposed to the light auburn locks and green eyes shared by my mother and brothers. I saw little of my dad when I was young, but my mom reminded me constantly and with frustration how much I acted like him. I had his Irish temper, his mischievous inclinations and his love of adventure.  
Father was a merchant sailor for the American coast so it's no wonder I fell in love with the sea at such a young age. He would come home after months of being gone and tell me wild stories of pirates and deadly storms. Mother said he was being dramatic, but I believed him. It entranced me and I couldn't wait to grow up and captain a ship of my own.  
Besides his tales of the sea, Father also told me other stories. Stories that were our secret. They were the ones I loved the most. The war stories about the Good Guys and the Bad Guys. Father told me how the Good Guys sought to bring peace and freedom and how the Bad Guys wanted to control everyone for thier own means. He mentioned names I couldn't pronounce and places I would never visit.  
One day when I was five, I asked Father who's side he was on. I wanted to hear him say he was a Good Guy, a hero. I was dismayed when he frowned and pulled me onto his lap.  
"I'm not on any side, Tori."  
Mother hated it when he called me that, but I loved it. It was much better than Victoria. That name sounded too old and proper to me.  
"Why?" I asked him.  
"It's complicated," he said. His frown deepened and for the first time ever I thought of Daddy as an old man. "I do what I can to aid the Order, but I must think of my family first."  
"You mean me?"

Father smiled. "Of course I mean you, love."

A few days later, Father said he had an errand to run and would be gone most of the day. I asked to go with him, but he refused. I begged and pleaded for an hour and he finally gave in. I followed triumphantly to the harbor and Daddy told me to wait at the docks while he spoke to his first mate in private. I pouted, but he did not give in this time. He told me to be good and count the ships while I waited.

With a disheartened sigh, I did as I was told. "One. Two. Three. Four. Fi-"

"Well, hello there young lady."

I stopped counting and turned to look at the man who had greeted me. He was dressed well in nice clothing with polished boots and a tricorn hat. He had a stylish cape over his dark blue coat and a leather bracer with interesting markings on his left wrist. At the time, I thought he was the most interesting person I'd ever met. It wasn't until years later that learned who he really was.

"Hello, sir," I returned with a clumsy curtsy.

The man smiled kindly and knelt beside me. His blue eyes regarded me with concern. "Are you lost?"

"No," I answered. "I'm counting ships for my daddy."

The man chuckled. "What a sweet child you are. Tell me, is your father close by?"

"Yes," I answered. I wasn't adept at lying to other people at that point in my life, only to my mother. I'm not sure the man believed me. He was quiet for a too long a time.

"I've an idea," he said at last. "Why don't we count ships together until he returns."

"Okay," I said with childlike glee.

"Good. Where were you?"

I pointed to a cargo ship. "Five."

The man pointed to a passenger vessel, displaying the neat bracelet on his arm. "Six."

I followed with seven. The man said eight and I giggled.

"That's not a ship, silly," I told him. "That's a boat."

"What's the difference?" he asked.

"A ship has a mast and a captain," I stated proudly.

"Aren't you a clever girl," he said making me smile. "What's your name?"

"Victoria Marie Whitaker."

"That is a fine name. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Whitaker. My name is Hay-"

I didn't catch his name because at that moment my father hurried over and grabbed my hand.

"Tori! I told you never to speak to strangers!"

I looked up at my father. He looked very upset. I hated displeasing his so I spat out a hasty apology.

"The fault was entirely mine," the man said. "She was standing here all alone and I thought perhaps she was lost. I meant no ill will, I assure you."

My father still looked displeased, but nodded at him. "Yes, well, we must be getting home. Come along, Tori."

I waved at the man as Daddy led me away. He smiled and waved back.

Later that night, as Father tucked me into bed, he questioned me about the man that I had been speaking to at the dock.

"Did he threaten you in any way?" he asked. "Or say anything out of the way or harmful?"

I shook my head. "No, we just counted ships." I giggled at the memory. "He thought a boat was a ship, Daddy. Isn't that silly?"

"Yes, yes," he said absently. "But you should be careful talking to people you don't know, Victoria. Sometimes people can seem nice when they're really not."

"He seemed nice," I stated.

"But that doesn't mean that he is."

I didn't really understand what Daddy was saying at the time. I only saw the world in black and white. Things got too complicated when I tried to see gray, so I stuck to what I knew.

"If nice people can be mean, then can mean people be nice?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Father said.

"Why do some people pretend to be nice when they aren't?"

"I don't know, love."

I grew bored of that topic and changed the subject. "Did Eli say hi to me?"

Father smiled for the first time since coming home. "Yes he did. And he wanted me to give you something."

My face lit up at the mention of a gift. "What?"

"This," Daddy said and began to tickle me.

I laughed in a way I haven't since my father died.


	2. Chapter 2

As the years passed, I became less the young lady my mother wished me and began to mimic my brothers' actions. By the time I was nine I refused to wear a dress at all and instead wore the pants and shirts that Bradley had outgrown. I also began to follow him hunting which annoyed him to no end. He would go to great lengths to loose me in the woods. His hopes were that I would give up and go home. Yet I always managed to track him down and spoil his sport.

Though I irritated him constantly, Brad was the only one of my brothers that I was ever close with. Frank and Todd were the eldest and detested any bit of attention from either of us, so that gave us a common topic for discussion.

Every year for as long as I could remember, my father would sail me to Martha's Vineyard for my birthday. I looked forward to these trips all year. I loved being on the open see and loved even more when Father let me help steer his schooner, which he had named after me. But when my mother got sick in the winter of 75, my eleventh birthday was spent at home. It was the most memorable birthday of my life, but not for good reason.

My dismay at being stuck home left me with nothing to do but follow Brad hunting. As was usual with him, he abandoned me soon after entering the woods. I was in the process of looking for him when I caught sight of a rabbit in the nearby brush. I was carrying an old shotgun that had once belonged to my oldest brother Frank at that time. The sights were out of alignment and it would constantly get jammed when fired, but I took aim anyhow. My small finger barely reached the trigger as I prayed for a perfect shot. Then I heard it. A low, feral growl just to my left. My body froze as my eyes looked over to see the snarling, wet muzzle of a wolf a few feet away.

I breathed a quiet curse that would have gotten me whipped as the animal took slow predatory stalks in my direction. I knew if I tried to move, it would pounce. Yet, remaining still would lead to an attack as well. I had no other option than to try to shoot it. I tightened my grip on the rifle. I guessed I had a five second window after aiming to fire before the wolf's teeth were on me. So missing meant I had only five second left to live.

I remember thinking of my father and how much I loved him as I swung the rifle and pulled the trigger. My eyes closed and I failed to absorb the recoil properly. The kick of the gun knocked me onto my back. I waited for the pain of the animal's teeth on my skin, but felt nothing other than the cold January air. After a while, I sat up and looked at the wolf. There was a hole directly between it's black eyes. It's tongue hung out of it's mouth, touching the ground as it lay dead on it's side.

Then the weight of how scared I was hit me and I began to cry. I had never been forced to defend myself, to fight for my survival before that moment. It was a feeling that both repulsed and pleased me and I began to view the world differently. I began to remember all the stories that my father had told me of the Good Guys and the Bad Guys and how they fought and killed one another and realized that this is what it meant. This is what death was.

I stood up and ran all the way home without stopping. I was breathless and wheezing when finally made it to the back door and yelled with a hoarse voice for my dad. He came running into the kitchen and I grabbed him in a fierce hug. He tried to get me to look at him and tell him what was wrong, but I just buried my face in his chest and cried harder.

"I killed him!"

I repeated this over and over until Father jerked me away and shook me hard.

"Who did you kill?" he demanded.

I realize now what poor words I had chosen and that Daddy had thought I had killed Brad. Then I was only a scared child that had never angered her father and his response terrified me. I tried to pull away from him, but his hands tightened on my arms and refused to let go until I explained. I eventually managed to tell him about the wolf, but had his hand prints bruised onto my arms for the next week.

I didn't sleep at all that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the wolf's empty stare and began to weep. I find it odd not that I lamented so over an animal while I have never shed a tear over the first man I killed. Yet, when I think about it, the beast on four legs was the more humane of the two.

In retrospect, that experience is what prepared me for the events of my later life.

A week after my birthday, my mother died. Being the only girl and not having a role model led my father to the decision of sending me to stay with Miss Amanda in Nantucket for the next two years. Though I love Mandy, she did not teach me to be as much of a lady as my father hoped. If anything, she made me even more stubborn than I already was.

When father did bring me home, things had changed between us. He no longer called me love and spoiled me as he once did. He seemed constantly distracted and irritable. At first I thought it was grieving for mother that made him act so unlike himself. Now I know it was something much worse.

One night I awoke and wondered to the kitchen for a drink of water when a noise behind the basement door caught my attention. I went down the stairs quietly and tiptoed by the jars of beans and squash that Mother and I had set up the summer before she died. There was a small room in the back that my father had made into an office. I noticed a faint glow under the door and approached it. I could hear Dad talking softly, but could not make out any voice other than his.

After a moment, I knocked quietly on the door. I heard movement then the door cracked open and one of Father's brown eyes was visible.

"Why aren't you in bed, Victoria Marie?"

I took a step back. Father only used middle names when he was angry.

"I – I was only-"

"Stop your stuttering girl and talk like you've got some sense."

The harsh tone my father used made my eyes sting with tears. I had heard him use that tone many times on my brothers, but he had never been so cross with me. I was his baby girl. His only love.

"I'm scared," I muttered honestly.

"For land's sake," he said in an exasperated voice. "You're fourteen. I know you ain't afraid of the dark."

"No," I replied meekly.

"Then what it the blue blazes is wrong with you?"

I didn't know what to say. So many things frightened me. Death. Life. Never having the bond with Dad that I once did. So many things went trough my mind at that moment, but what I uttered next was a surprise even to me.

"I miss your stories."

Father opened the door enough to come through and I backed up afraid he was going to strike me. Instead he sighed deeply.

"You are too old for fairy tales."

"They weren't fairy tales," I reminded him. "They were true."

"Do you really believer that?" he asked.

I nodded because I did. I still do.

Father took my hand gently and looked at me the way he used to. "You've always been strong, Tori. Stronger than your brothers. Even stronger than me."

I frowned. I didn't believe what he was saying. My father was the strongest man I'd ever met. I was the weak little girl who cried when she killed a wolf and couldn't keep from getting whelps when she insulted her brothers.

"I will tell you one last story."

Father led me into his office and closed the door. I had never been in this room before. I looked around with interest. On the desk were a few scattered documents and by the wall was a box of junk. On top of the box I noticed an old blanket and toy that had been mine when I was a baby. The presence of these things baffled and flattered me.

Daddy took a seat in the only chair and I knelt down in front of him.

"You are old enough now to understand the importance of secrecy and I need you to promise me that what I am about to tell you will never leave this room. Can you promise me that, love?"

I nodded. I was elated that he had called me love again. I would have promised him anything at that moment.

"I've told you about when I was a crewmen aboard the _Aquila_ , under the orders of Bobby Faulkner."

I nodded again. I had heard those storied many times.

"On one of your voyages," Father continued, "we found something. An artifact that is very important to the Assassins. The Templars must never know it was discovered, so Bobby told me to look after it."

"Why you?" I asked.

"The Templars were gaining control at that time and it was too dangerous for Achilles to have it. Bobby was under suspicion so I was the most logical choice. No one thought they would ever suspect a family man of coveting such an item. Now the Templars are backing the British and there is no way I can risk moving it."

"It's in the house?" I asked.

Father nodded. "In this room. I can't show it to you, but I want you to promise me that after I'm gone you will look after it."

"Gone?"

"I will not live forever. You know that. I'm trusting you with my life. You must not let the Templars get their hands on the artifact. Someday Achilles may come after it, but until that time do not tell anyone that it's here. Do you understand?"

I nodded, not sure I did.


	3. Chapter 3

The attitude of the town became tense as the British began to tighten their control over the sea and charged taxes. There were whispers of treason and everyone argued either for or against the rule of the crown.

The Whitaker home was no exception. Father opposed the crown and – as he always did – Frank opposed him. Their arguments on the matter became a daily occurrence and grew increasingly heated with each word spoken. My father was a good man, but any who sailed under his command could tell you stories of temper. He was slow to anger, but fierce when he finally did.

I was sewing the night Father and Frank had their final row.

It started as it always did, with my brother trying to convince our dad to see the error of his ways.

"The crown asks no more of us than we should be willing to give for our way of life," he was saying.

"That heretic king expects you to follow blindly for no other reason than he asks it," Father responded. His voice was strained with frustration at repeating himself. "That kind of oppression is what my grandfather was trying to escape when he came to the Americas. What the Colonists need to do is take up arms and drive out the mongrel dogs that support that tyrant."

"You speak treason," Frank told him. At twenty-one he thought himself our father's equal and he often spoke disrespectfully thinking that it made him a man. "If you're not careful you'll find a noose around your neck."

Dad rose from where he was seated and approached the young man. I thought he was going to punch him. Frank must have thought the same because he took a step back. Father instead fixed him with an icy glare and spoke in a tone that made my pulse quicken.

"You dare to threaten me in my own home, boy?"

"It wasn't a threat." There was a bit of fear underlying the ire in Franks voice. "It was a warning."

"I don't need no warning on how to avoid the gallows from a child. I've cheated death more times than you've changed your trousers."

"Death will win someday."

The laugh my father let out scared me more than the fire in his eyes. "I look forward to it. Until then I'll not listen to backtalk from one of my own. As long as you're living under my roof, you'll keep your support of the dogs to yourself."

Dad returned to his seat as the room grew quiet. Frank and Todd glanced at each other. I knew the look they exchanged. It was the same one they had when they were up to something. I had a horrible feeling that something bad was about to happen but could do nothing to prevent it.

"We're leaving," Todd said in a timid voice.

"What?" Father asked.

"Todd and I have joined the Regulars. We are to report to Colonel Pitcairn at Southgate Fort first thing in the morning."

"Why the hell would you do something so stupid?"

"We're standing for what we believe in," Todd said. "Just like you taught us."

"That ain't at all what I taught you, boy," Father replied. "I taught you to do the right thing, not get involved with the group that seeks to deny everyone free will."

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but Dad quieted him with a look. He glanced at Brad. "You going to turn traitor on me, too?"

"I ain't a soldier," Brad said.

Father huffed in response then went to his office.

I had trouble sleeping that night. As I lay staring out the window, there was a soft tap on the door and my father entered. He sat on the edge of my bed as he used to do when I was little and rubbed my hair. I asked him if everything was alright.

"Fine, love." But his tone didn't sound fine. It sounded sad. "I want you to remember the promise you made me, Tori. And keep it no matter what."

"Okay," I said.

"And I don't want you going to Southgate tomorrow. Do you understand?"

I nodded. Then, realizing it was too dark for him to see, told him I understood.

He kissed my forehead and told me he loved me, then he stood and left the room.

I awoke late the next morning and went downstairs to find Bradley sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his rifle.

"Morning, pint," he greeted. "It's about time you get up. I had to make my own breakfast."

After Mom's death it had fallen to me to do all the cooking, cleaning and anything else that was considered women's work. I hated it.

"It looks like you survived," I replied.

"You missed saying bye to the boys."

I shrugged. I hadn't really wanted to say good bye to them. "Did Daddy go with them?"

Brad shook his head. "I ain't seen him."

I made some biscuits and went to wake Father up. When he wasn't in bed, I went downstairs to his office. I knocked and called, but got no answer. When I tried to open the door, I found it was locked. That's when I got worried.

I ran upstairs and out the front door, ignoring Brad's inquires as to what was wrong. I was a few yards from the house when he caught up with me and demanded to know where I was going.

"To the fort," I answered.

"It's too late to see Frank and Todd now."

"Daddy's there!" I told him. I don't know how I knew this, but I felt it was true.

Bradley grabbed my arm. I jerked away.

"I'm going to the fort!" I yelled.

"Alright," he said. "But at least put on a jacket. You'll freeze before you make it to town. "

Brad took off his overcoat and put it around my shoulders. I continued walking and Brad followed me. The October sky was gray and it looked like it might start snowing at any minute. Winter had come early this year.

There were two guards at the main gate of the fort who denied us entry. Bradley tried to explain to them that I was upset at not getting to say farewell to my brothers, but they refused to listen.

"All the recruits are with Colonel Pitcairn and cannot be interrupted," they explained.

Brad took my arm and was about to lead me away when a commotion erupted inside the fort. The two guards turned and I looked by them. One of the recruits had broken formation and was running across the platform toward Pitcairn, holding a knife above his head. My heart stopped as I realized the man was my father. I rushed passed the guards and toward the stage only to be held back by another soldier.

"Hey," he said holding me tight. "Where ya think you going, girlie?"

I struggled to get free, but he was much stronger than I.

I watched as two soldiers disarmed my father and held him on his knees before the colonel.

"Do you know the penalty for attempting to assassinate and officer of the British army?"

"Execution," my father answered. There was not an ounce of fear in his voice.

Pitcairn nodded and drew his pistol.

I fought harder to get free as Todd and Frank stepped forward.

"Please, Colonel," Frank said. "I beg you to show mercy. That man is our father. He hasn't been right in the head since our mother passed."

"Liar!" I yelled. "Daddy is not crazy!"

My father looked at me and for the first time his eyes displayed fear.

"My sister doesn't understand," Frank went on. "She's far to emotional."

Pitcairn considered the situation then lowered his gun. "For the sake of your children being present and your mental instability, I will see that you get a fair trial."

I heard Dad laugh. "Nothing's fair with people like you and Kenway in charge."

Though I could only halfway see Pitcairn's face from my position, I noticed his expression change. His calm demeanor became that of one concerned and angry.

"Lock him up," he ordered the soldiers.

They pulled my father to his feet. He seemed to stumble for a moment then quickly recovered and broke the grasp of the men holding him. He began to charge Pitcairn who brought up his pistol and fired. My dad fell as he clutched the bleeding wound on his chest.

I screamed and jerked myself loose from the soldier holding me. I was running across the platform when I felt a pain in the side of my head and the world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

When I came to, I was laying on a cot in a small windowless cell. My head was pounding. As I sat up I felt a wave of dizziness and thought I might faint. It passed after a moment and I looked around. The man who had restrained me was standing at the bars looking at me. He had a busted lip and his left eye was bruised.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said. "Sorry 'bout your head. But-" he pointed to his face "-you got me pretty good, too."

I said nothing as he continued to watch me with a slight grin. His gaze made me uncomfortable. I hugged myself and looked away.

"Why am I here?" I asked.

"John's got some questions for you."

I shook my head. The events of the day played in my head again and I felt tears run down my cheeks. I wondered where Brad was and where they had taken Father's body. I also wondered what questions they had for me.

I wanted to go home. I wanted this to all be a bad dream. I wanted my dad.

I began to cry.

"It's okay, darlin'" the man said. "Just answer a few questions then you and your brother can go home."

"I'm not saying anything to anyone," I said between sobs.

"You're a feisty lil' one, ain't ya?" he said. He smiled that unnerving smile of his. "I like that."

The sound of approaching footsteps made me look up just as Colonel Pitcairn arrived at my cell. He looked at me and I glared at him.

The other man chuckled. "I don't think she likes you none, Johnny."

"Quiet, Thomas. Victoria Whitaker?"

I said nothing.

"I have some questions regarding your late father. Will you answer honestly?"

I felt fresh tears roll down my face as I gritted my teeth and kept quiet.

"If you refuse," Pitcairn said, "I'll have you sent to a secured facility for disobedient children and you'll not see your family until you're released. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly.

"Where was your father employed?'

"He was a marine merchant," I said. "He ferried goods between ports in the Colonies."

"What ship did he serve on?"

" _Victoria_ ," I whispered.

"Was Mr. Whitaker active in any social groups?"

I shook my head.

"What sort of people did he socialize with?"

"I don't know," I said. "Sailors mostly."

"Give me the names of some of his associates."

"His first mate was Eli Harbrow."

"Who else?"

"I don't know. I never met his crew."

Pitcairn studied me. I knew the thought I was lying.

The other man, Thomas, was watching me, too. His gaze wasn't as critical as the Colonel's, but I disliked it just as much.

Finally Pitcairn unlocked the cell door and opened it. "You're brother is waiting outside to take you home. Some of my men will escort you there. Neither of you are to leave your house until after all your father's affairs are settled. Is that clear?"

I nodded and left.

The next three weeks were spent with Brad and I confined to our property with armed guards stationed at all the doors. It was irritating and seemed to drag on forever. We weren't allowed to speak to anyone or go beyond the clearing of the back yard. Bradley was livid about being unable to hunt. Normally he was mild tempered and quiet, but he got to the point where he argued with the sentries for their unfair treatment and refusal to explain why we were being kept here.

"They can't keep us here forever," Brad told me. "They'll clear off soon."

What made our confinement even worse was the fact that Father had been deemed a traitor and was denied a funeral. We had no closure and did not even get to bury him next to Mother. I don't know what they did with his body. They probably burned it or tossed it into the sea. I hoped the latter. At least then he could be in the one place he loved almost as much as home.

A few days before Thanksgiving, we got a visit from a group of soldiers claiming that we had to leave the premises because it was property of the British regiment. The one who delivered the notice was Jerry Ducain, the man I would later kill.

"It's all set up right and legal," he said as Brad read the papers. "This house and land are now the property of the British army."

I grabbed the paper from Bradley and read it. I felt anger grow rapidly as I discovered that my brother Frank has donated our home to the service of the king's regiment.

"This is not fair!" I told them.

Ducain looked at me. Even then I hated how he grinned and the way his eyes searched me. "It don't matter what you think, girlie. You're trespassing. And I can have you arrested. Or worse."

His words fed the rage building inside me and I lashed out without thinking. My fist hit hard against his nose and his smile was replace with a sneer. I still don't regret my actions. I only wish I had done worse. I wish I hadn't stopped at one hit and fought harder to get free when his hand closed on my throat and the back of my head hit hard against the wall as he slammed me into it. I saw Brad attempt to intervene but be restrained by two guards. One of them punched him in the stomach and he doubled over.

Ducain's breath stank of bourbon as he spoke in my face. "Maybe you don't understand," he said. "You ain't got no rights here. We could kill you both and no one'll care."

"Let her go!"

I appreciated Bradley's attempt at helping, but the only reward it got him was a broken nose from one of the soldiers. Ducain ignored him and continued holding me. His grip tightened and I felt my breath cut short. I struggled as hard as I could, which only made him grin.

"You're firey, ain't ya?"

My only response was to struggle harder. I didn't like the way he was holding me. Or the level of pleasure he seemed to be getting from it.

"I bet you're pure," he said in a hideous tone. "Yeah. A girl like you ain't had a man yet. I can change that."

I felt his hand on my body and wanted to kill him. I swore to myself that if I ever got the chance I would kill him.

Fortunately, that's as far as he went then. Only because that was when the door opened and a familiar man entered and asked what was going on. Ducain released his hold and turned to look at Thomas. I gasped for air.

"Didn't know you was gonna be here, Hickey," he said.

"I got orders from the big man," he said. He looked at me. "You ain't causing trouble are ya, sweetheart?"

Though I was still angry, I was relieved at being saved from defilement. One look at Bradley and I knew our only option was to leave. So I shook my head.

He nodded. "Good. Then I guess you ought to get goin."

Thomas looked at my brother. The two men holding him let go. Bradley wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve and pulled me over to him. He looked me over then gave Ducain a glare.

"Come on, Tori. We're leaving."

We spent that night in the loft of a neighbor's barn. It was cold and spitting snow, but I was thankful to be alive. I refused to cry as I curled up on the hay and used a horse blanket for cover. I didn't know what I was going to do or where I was going to go, but I promised myself that I would survive at least long enough to get even with the men that had stolen my home.


	5. Chapter 5

My fifteenth birthday came and went without any sort of celebration. It was one of the bleakest days of my memory and I was glad when it was over. Bradley did take the time to wish me well, but it was only a reminder of what I had lost and made me feel worse.

Bradley managed to find work making deliveries at a local general store and I was given the task of caring for an elderly lady by the name of Lyda Ross. She was a friend of Elizabeth Adams, who's husband, Sam, had known my father. Mrs. Adams was a lovely woman who always worried about my well being as if I was her own child. I visited her sometimes for supper and enjoyed her company.

As it happens, I was on my way home from her house March 5th when the riots broke out. I followed the crowd to the customs house and listened to the citizens threaten the soldiers. The atmosphere was tense and I could tell it would escalate if order was not maintained soon.

I resolved to leave when I noticed someone standing in the alley nearby. It took me a minute to place where I had seen him before. When I realized he was the man from the docks nine years ago, I considered approaching. The man he was speaking to left and I took a few steps in his direction. I wondered what he was doing here and why he didn't seem concerned with the events. I considered that he was not the sort of man I should introduce myself to and paused for a moment.

That was when the first shot rang out. The retort was loud and I covered my ears. It sounded much closer to me than the other shots that the soldiers fired, but with the ensuing chaos I didn't think to look for it's origin.

It was then that a hand grabbed me and I looked up to see Todd, dressed in the red of the British. He pulled me away from the crowd and into a nearby alley. Once there, my relief at seeing him safe was replaced by annoyance. I jerked my arm away from him.

"You shouldn't be here, Tori," he said. "Get home."

I glared at him. "Only Father was allowed to call me that!" I retorted. "Not traitors like you. And I no longer have a home thanks to you and Frank!"

Todd had never been good in a confrontation and he backed off at my words. I wondered what kind a solider he made being so mild mannered and polite.

"I assume you're being taken care of," he said.

"Like you even care about me." I saw the pain in his eyes and felt a bit sorry for what I'd said.

"I'm sorry for all your misfortunes. But you should be thankful to have what you do. Not everyone is so lucky."

I huffed, but felt my eyes sting. I loved my brothers. All of them. And I worried about their safety. I had grown up receiving a lot of attention from my father, but it was not so with them. Todd especially had striven for every bit of praise he got. I almost pitied him.

"Go home, Victoria. And please stop causing trouble for the soldiers at the outpost."

I felt heat on my cheeks. I started to deny the pranks I had been pulling on the Regulars stationed at our old home. But I knew he wouldn't believe me. Tipping the outhouse, greasing the water pump handle, adding salt to the well. They were all things my brothers had taught me. There was no point in pretending I wasn't to blame. I was only glad that Todd hadn't tattled on me.

We parted ways and I went back to the room I worked for at Mrs. Ross' house.

A few weeks after that, Brad came to see me. It wasn't like him to visit me in the evenings, so guessed it was bad news. We went to the back garden to speak in private. It was nearing spring, but the night air was still cold. I hugged myself in the shawl and felt the breeze seep beneath the skirt of the dress Lyda insisted I wear.

"Has something happened to one of the boys?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Last I heard, Frank was stationed at Southgate and Todd was doing routine patrols along the border."

I still got the feeling that something was wrong and insisted that he tell me. After a sullen silence and hesitated words, Brad told me what he had come to say.

"I'm leaving Boston."

"Okay," I responded. "For where?"

Bradley shrugged. "Somewhere west, I guess. Somewhere the conflict isn't so thick."

"You're taking me with you, aren't you?"

I knew the answer before he spoke. The look on his face, the way he stood, told me what I needed to know.

"You have to stay here."

I was hurt. Brad was all the family I had left. The only reminder of the life I had once lived. And now he wanted to leave me. I understand now why it was something he had to do alone, but then I didn't. Then I just felt like everyone I loved was leaving me.

"No."

"Don't argue with me, Tori. I don't even know where I'm going yet. I'm not gonna drag you along with me if I'm not sure I'm gonna survive."

I blinked back tears and let my temper take control once again.

"Fine! Leave. I hope I never see you again!"

I turned for the house and heard him call after me. I swung back around at the mention of my nickname and narrowed my eyes at him.

"Don't call me 'Tori'!"

That was the last time I saw Brad. I hope he knows that I didn't mean what I said. I hope he has forgiven me. I wonder sometimes if he made it to the place he was looking for and if it gave him the life he was seeking. I hope so.

I sometimes think about journeying west and trying to find him, but I have too many reasons to stay now. I've tried leaving Boston a few times, but I've always managed to find my way back home. My roots are here. Even with all the oppression I face and the looks I receive from some the community, I will never live anywhere else. I am happy here.

That summer brought the events that would change my life and lead to me killing Jerry Ducain. I don't pity myself for what I went through. Nor do I consider my rape and beating any more traumatic than what any other woman has been through. I bear the scars of it like anyone else would. My revenge did not make it easier to live with as I had thought it might. I have never felt the peace I wanted. I still sometimes awake in the middle of the night with memories of everything and the urge to cry. But I don't cry. I won't let myself. I cried all the tears I had the night of the fire.

Sometimes I want to thank Connor for making me strong enough to act on my plot. Other times I want to curse him for allowing me a glimpse into a world where murder is condonable. I know he is not to blame for what I've done. I am the only one responsible for my actions. But I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if we had never met. I've made my choices and I don't regret any of them. In fact, most of my memories of him are pleasant. And I don't mind the constant reminder of our friendship. But, when I do think of him, I chose not to consider what he really is and what all he has done. It makes it easier to ignore all the gray that way.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the fall of 1771 when I met Connor. It was Sam Adam's who introduced us. Miss Lyda had passed away the winter before and Mrs. Adams' had given me work at their home in exchange for a spare room beside the smokehouse. I enjoyed that much more than my previous job. Mostly because I had privacy and got to wear what I wanted. Mr. Adams was not home much, so I found it odd when he came to the house in the middle of the day. It was even more strange that he had a young native boy wearing a white, hooded cloak with him and that he wanted to speak with me.

I was given a message by the servant to meet Mr. Adams in his study. So I did. The boy was there as well, standing by the window. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as I entered, then looked away. Relations between the Colonists and the natives were not always civil and I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in his presence. I studied him. He could not have been any older than I was, yet he had the mannerism of a warrior. He was tall, brawny and his complexion was lighter than any of the other Indians I had encountered. There was a tomahawk at his side and I wondered if he had ever used it.

"Victoria," Mr. Adams greeted me with a smile. He was always kind. "Please come in. I'd like you to meet Connor."

"It is nice to meet you," he said. Though I got the feeling it was only a formality. He didn't seem very happy to be here.

"Connor is the apprentice of Achilles Davenport," Sam told me. He paused as though that was suppose to mean something to me. I waited for clarification. "Achilles was a friend of your father. A long time ago, he gave something to Caleb that he now needs returned."

I recalled the conversation that I had with my father many years ago. The one concerning the artifact that was hidden in our basement. I guessed that was what he was talking about, but I feigned ignorance non the less. "What?"

The boy watched me closely. It made me even more uncomfortable.

"That is between Achilles and Connor," Sam said. "I've only involved you because you know what's become of Caleb's possessions."

"The house is now a British outpost," I reminded him. "And Dad had nothing of value that would still be there."

Mr. Adams nodded. "I see. Well, thank you for the information, Victoria. I suppose Connor should return to Achilles and share the news."

"No," the boy said. "She is lying."

I wasn't sure how he knew this, but it annoyed me. I narrowed my eyes at him. "How dare you accuse me of lying."

Connor was not phased by my reaction. He seemed to not even notice that I had raised my voice at him. He spoke in a calm tone, which irritated me more.

"It is not an accusation. You know what it is that Achilles seeks. And you know where it is located."

I gritted my teeth. "Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell a savage like you."

A flicker in his eyes was the only evidence of Connor's anger at my insult. If he had meant to respond, it was interrupted by Sam.

"Easy!" He placed a light hand on my shoulder. "Connor is a friend. I know it's difficult to talk about your father, but this is important. If you can help in any way, it would be much appreciated."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Adams," I said. "I'll not betray my father's trust. If Achilles wants it back, he will have to come himself."

I didn't wait for any kind of acknowledgment, but left the room. As I closed the door behind me, I heard Sam apologize for my behavior and make the excuse that I had been through a lot. For some reason, his defense of me made me even more aggravated.

I left the house and walked through the woods to the cliff overlooking the sea. I sat with my knees to my chest gazing at the water and thought of my father and the artifact and the strange boy that had come to collect it. I considered that I had overreacted, but I remembered my father telling me that it was dangerous and it must not fall into the wrong hands. But how was I to know who's hands were the wrong ones? I had promised Daddy that I would look after it. So far I had not done a good job.

"It is peaceful here."

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest as I rose and turned toward the voice. Connor was standing only a few feet behind me. It bothered me that I had not heard his approach. There had been no rustle of the underbrush or snap of any twig or crunch of a dry leaf to alert me of footsteps. That brought to my mind another concern.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.

"Not long."

He made no attempt to excuse his behavior. So I asked if he had followed me.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

He took a few steps forward and I instinctively took one back. He was still and looked at me. I thought it was odd that he appeared almost as uncomfortable as I was.

"Sam does not know what Achilles has sent me here to retrieve," he said. "I hoped that, without him present, you would be more cooperative."

I regained the ground I had abandoned and Connor watched me as I took another step. "How did you know I wasn't telling the truth?"

"Your eyes," he answered. "You did not look directly at Sam when you denied knowing. You also held your breath."

I looked at him. I didn't recall holding my breath when lied. No one had ever pointed that out before. It was strange that he had noticed after only just meeting me.

I huffed and turned back around. The sun was beginning to set and the water reflected the colors of the sky beautifully.

"Daddy told me that someday Achilles or Bobby would come after it," I said.

"Bobby Faulkner?"

I looked at Connor, who was now standing to my left. I nodded. "My father was a crewman of Bobby's when he was captain of the _Aquila_."

"Mr. Faulkner said he was a friend of Mr. Whitaker," Connor said. "He was sorry to hear of his passing."

"You know Bobby?"

Connor nodded. "He is a good friend. He taught me how to sail. After the restoration of the _Aquila_ , he turned command of her over to me."

I looked the boy over. "You are captain of the _Aquila_?"

"Yes. Does that impress you?"

"No." I wondered if he could tell I was lying. If he could, he didn't let on.

"Dad told me Achilles was an Assassin," I said. "Are you one, too?"

I received affirmation at this.

"The artifact is hidden in the cellar of my house," I told him. "The guards are watchful these days. I'm not sure if there is any way to get it."

"I will find one," Connor said.

I expected such a response and smiled. "The house is a few miles east of here. Near the hills."

Connor nodded. "Thank you, Victoria."

I watched him leave without making a sound then headed back home for dinner. I wondered if he would be successful and if I would ever see him again. I did not have to wonder long before I got my answer.


	7. Chapter 7

I was sleeping soundly when I was awakened. I first attempted to brush away the hand that was lightly shaking me, but the voice calling my name would not be ignored. It took me a moment to place it. When I did, I sat up quickly and blinked rapidly to focus my vision. There were dim streams of sunlight coming through the single window, but the sky was still gray from the early morning.

"Connor?"

"There is a problem," he said. "Get dressed and meet me in Sam's study."

He left quickly and quietly and I sat stunned that he had invaded my privacy. I didn't like the way he constantly surprised me with his presence. It was unnerving.

I got up and dressed then went to main house. It was quiet. The only one up and moving around was the servant. I smiled at her as I passed and went strait to Samuel's office. I saw light beneath the door and could hear he and Connor talking. I entered and was greeted by Mr. Adams.

"I'm sorry we had to wake you so early," he said.

"That was your idea?"

"I'm afraid so. I have an early meeting and wanted to make sure you would agree to help Connor before I left."

"Help him with what?" I asked with a yawn.

"He seems to have had trouble locating the item. I was hoping you could give him specific details on how to find it."

"That is not necessary," Connor said. "I only need a way to draw most of the guards off the property so that I can do a thorough search."

"I can provide a distraction," Sam said. "But I still think you will need Victoria's help with the search. She knows the house better than anyone."

Being in the state I was, I could only think to agree with Mr. Adams. He seemed satisfied with that and gave Connor a pat on the shoulder.

"I really must be going now. I doubt I will be home before dark. Connor, you are a guest here, please make yourself at home. Victoria, remind Elizabeth that those documents must be in the post today."

I nodded as he left. I sometimes wondered how Mr. and Mrs. Adams managed to stay so happily married when they rarely saw each other.

"You were right," Connor said. "The guards are very vigilant." He looked at me. "Probably due to the series of pranks that have plagued them since they took up post there."

I attempted to hide a smile and saw the corner of his mouth turn upward just a bit.

Even after Ducain and his friends had punished me, I did not stop my harassment. I lessened it, but I would never stop. I no longer cared if they knew it was me. I also no longer feared the repercussions of being caught. The only thing they could do that was worse than what they'd already done was kill me. And I really didn't see that as punishment. If anything, it was release.

"Sam may be right," Connor said after a moment. "I may need your help to find the artifact."

I looked at him. He was deep in thought. Perhaps considering the consequences of my help and the danger involved.

"I thought you could do it alone," I said.

"I could. But your knowledge of the house would give me better chance at getting in and out without hesitation. You can refuse if you wish. Your life will be at risk if you choose to go with me."

I thought for only a moment. Then I nodded. "I will help you."

"Do you know how to use a blade?"

The question confused me for a second. I was unsure how to answer. I could skin and fillet an animal proficiently with a knife, but I knew that was not what he meant. He wanted to know if I could use one for fighting.

I shook my head.

Connor pulled a dagger from his boot and held it out to me. It was small, shiny and looked very sharp. I took it. It seemed to fit perfectly in my hand. The grip molded to my fingers and did not feel as awkward as most of the hunting knifes I owned.

"I will teach you how to defend yourself," he said. "But that is in case you are too outnumbered or overpowered to fight unarmed."

I nodded.

"Meet me at the cliff after you have eaten."

Most of that morning was spent with Connor lecturing me on the importance of stealth and how to use the environment to my advantage. He pointed out my weaknesses and told me how to counteract them. I quickly grew bored of listening to him and let my mind drift as I watched him speak. I wondered if these were lessons that Achilles had taught him, or if he had learned them from his fellow tribe members. I also wondered where his parents were and what had made him become an Assassin. I then wondered if he had sailed the _Aquila_ to Boston and if Bobby was here. I wondered many things until I realized he had stopped talking and was looking at me.

"What?"

He shook his head, aware that I had not been listening. "On your feet."

I stood up and brushed the dirt and grass from my pants.

"Have you ever thrown a punch before?" he asked.

"I have three brothers," I told him. "I've been in my fair share of scraps."

Connor nodded and held up his hand. "Show me."

I balled my fist and hit his palm. He instantly began to criticize my technique. I rolled my eyes. If he noticed, he ignored it.

After an hour of punching lessons, Connor began to instruct me on kicking. I thought the whole lesson was pointless. Any child knows how to kick. I began to ignore him again. He got my attention again and had me practice a few of the moves he showed me. Not a one of which I did properly. The fourth time he told me to repeat the kick, I groaned in frustration and cursed.

Connor approached me and stood only an inch away. His eyes narrowed at me. "If you do not wish to learn, then I do not need your assistance."

I became angry then. "Maybe if you were a better teacher, then I'd be a better student."

"Do not place blame on me. You do not listen, you become frustrated when I correct you and you have not even tried to follow instructions."

"That's because you keep telling me shit I don't need to know! I know how to defend myself."

Connor stepped back a few paces. "Then prove it."

I watched him for a minute. I wasn't sure if I was scared or nervous, but I hesitated to fight him. "I don't want to hurt you," I excused.

He surprised me by actually smiling. "You will not hurt me."

I'm not sure if it was the smile, his words or just his confidence that I wouldn't be able to mach him that made me so mad. Which ever it was made whatever I was feeling before fade and I did punch him. I tried to at least. He blocked it easily.

"Were your reflexes as quick as your temper, that would not have missed."

I gritted my teeth and swung again. Again he blocked. I became more and more frustrated each time I failed to land a blow. It went on for a few minutes and I began to realize that he may have been right. That's when I remembered a the tactic I had used on Frank once that had made him leave me alone for almost a year. As soon as I had an opening, I did the same thing to Connor. Looking back, I wish I hadn't used such a dirty move on him. But then I was angry and really enjoyed the sight of him on his knees after a kick to the groin.

I backed away and let myself cool off as Connor recovered. It took him a few minutes. When he was finally able to stand again, he favored me with a well deserved glare. I considered speaking, but thought it best to keep my mouth shut. Which was probably the smartest decision I had made all day.

"Take a break," Connor told me in a strained voice.

I nodded and went back to the house to get a glass of water. I wandered around the house for a while and snacked on an apple. Then I filled a canteen and headed back to the cliff.

Connor was seated on the ground looking out over the water when I returned. I walked as quietly as I could toward him. When I was a yard away, he spoke.

"Are you trying to sneak up on me?"

I gave up on trying to be quiet as I walked the rest of the way. "No."

I held out the canteen to him and he took it. I sat next to him and watched the waves.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He nodded. "I underestimated you."

"How so?"

Connor was quiet for a minute. "The soldiers at the house spoke much about you."

"About my pranks," I guessed.

"No," he said. "About how you fought when they attacked you."

I felt my face warm. Shame and embarrassment fought to overwhelm me, but I pushed them back and exchanged them for the familiar sensation of wrath.

"How many men came after you?"

"Four," I said in voice stronger than I felt.

"And not a one of them remained unharmed."

I took pride in that. I had fought. I had made sure that every man that defiled me that night had a scar to show for it. I wanted them to suffer just as much as I did.

"One of the soldiers at the house, was he tall with sandy hair and a missing tooth?"

"Ducain," Connor said. "He is one of the men who abused you."

I nodded. "He was the leader. It was his idea to..."

"You hate him," Connor stated.

I nodded.

"You want to kill him."

Again, I nodded.

"I will help you."

I looked into his dark eyes and nodded once more.


	8. Chapter 8

I had two days of training before the plan to retrieve the relic was scheduled. The remainder of the first day was spent learning stealth and disarming. Once I made the decision to pay attention, I realized what a good teacher Connor really was. He was patient with my failures and praised me when I did well. I didn't tell him, but I enjoyed his approval. It gave me the incentive to try harder.

The whole of the second day was spent learning how to properly wield a blade for combat purposes. I was timid at first, afraid I was going to hurt him. But Connor had fast reflexes and it was usually me that came out with a scratch or bruise.

This training forced us to be close to one another and after a few hours, I began to enjoy having Connor stand next to me for demonstrations or hold me close when he was teaching me how to free myself from a restraining hold. It was late in the afternoon when I finally let myself think that the reason I didn't mind it so much was because I was beginning to like him. I blushed fiercely when this realization came to me and quickly backed away from him. He had been in the middle of telling me the best parts of the anatomy to strike for an instant kill when this happened. He only looked at me quizzically and asked what was wrong. I told him I just needed a break. What I really needed was time to clear my head and put everything in perspective. I convinced myself that I had no time to waste on a foolish crush and that he would not be interested. We had a mission and I needed to stay foucused. Once I felt confident, I returned to Connor and he resumed his lesson.

Then it was time for us to make our way to the house and put our plan into action.

We made our way in silence. The sun had almost set completely when we arrived at the wooded area in the back of my house. Connor suggested we wait until dark to move any closer. He said it would be best to stick to the shadows. I nodded agreement and we crouched on a fallen tree to wait. I looked at the house and felt a lump in my throat. The garden was overgrown, the flowerbeds full of weeds and the wood discolored from no one around to treat it. It was not the same happy home I had grown up in, but a neglected twin. It angered me to see it like that. To see what the soldiers had done to it. I clinched my fists and felt my nails bite into my palms. The sickness I felt was no longer from my nervousness, but from my disgust with the British army. I wanted to make them pay for what they had done. To me and to my house.

"Victoria."

I looked at Connor. He was watching me intently in the dying light.

"Our main goal is to recover the artifact. Do not forget that."

I nodded. "I won't."

"Good. Once we have it, then – if the opportunity arises – you can kill Ducain. But if I say it is too dangerous, we leave him alive."

I stared at him. "You said you would help me kill him."

"I will," he said. "If the odds are favorable. But we have a more important task than ending his life. You understand that."

"Yes," I said. "But-"

"But nothing," he interrupted. He looked at me sternly. "If you want his death so much, then you go after the artifact and I will see to Ducain."

I shook my head. "No. No, I want to...It has to be me."

I think Connor was trying to protect me. To save me from what murder does to a person. I didn't understand it then. I didn't know what it would be like. How it would make me feel. I do now and I believe Connor was trying to avoid pulling me into his world. That he was trying to keep me innocent and naive.

Connor nodded. "Okay. But remember the risk involved"

"I will."

He stood up. "It is time."

As we made our way toward the cellar door, a soldier rounded the house and began a slow watchful pace in the back yard. Connor pulled me behind the oak tree and held a finger to his lips. We waited in silence for what felt like and eternity. I leaned closer to Connor and peeked over his shoulder. The guard reached the opposite corner of the house, then did an about face and walked back toward the other corner.

"What now?" I whispered in Connor's ear.

He was still for a moment before turning to me. "Can you climb a tree?"

I hesitated, then nodded. Though it had been many years, I guessed the skill of scaling limbs had not changed any. I followed Connor up the oak to where the branches began to get thinner. I wasn't as fast as he was, but at least I didn't slip. He paused near the top and helped me up to the limb he was standing on. He motioned for me to hang back while he perched at the end and jumped from the limb of the oak to the branch of an elm a few feet away. He then turned, stepped back and beckoned me to follow.

I doubted the jump was as easy as he made it look. I considered telling him he was crazy and descending the tree. Instead I took a deep breath and did as he had.

My shock at actually landing on the next limb made me unaware that it had cracked under the added weight. Connor, however, did notice and jerked me from the edge. He backed to the trunk, pulling me with him, as a two foot section of the branch we were standing on fell to the ground with a loud rustle and clunk.

I breathed a curse as the guard looked in our direction. I hoped we were too high up and well hidden for him to see. My heart thumped faster as he approached. I felt Connor tense as the soldier stood at the base of the tree and surveyed the scene. His left arm released me and I heard a faint click. He attempted to go around me, but I held him tighter. He made a low irritated noise, something akin to a growl, and glared at me. I ignored him and continued to keep him in place until the guard walked away. Once he was out of range, I relaxed my grip on Connor and he nudged me away.

"He is gone now," I said quietly.

"To alert the others," Connor said in harsh whisper. "Soon he will be back, with reinforcements."

"We'll be gone by then."

Connor rolled his eyes then pointed his finger at me. "Do not ever get in my way again."

I pushed his hand away with a huff. For some reason, that seemed to surprise him and his gaze lost some of it's intensity.

"Let's just get this done," I told him.

"Fine."

Connor began to lower himself quickly and steadily from the tree. I followed with more confidence than I had started with. Once we were on the ground, we dashed for the door. It took Connor only a few seconds to pick the lock. I watched and listened as he did. He opened the door and ushered me through before entering and securing the latch behind us.

The basement was dark. The only light was from the floorboards of the kitchen above. I let my eyes adjust before moving forward. Had I not known where I was going, I would not have found the study entrance so quickly. But I had been here many times. Most of them in the dark. I didn't even realize until I let go that I had taken Connor's hand to lead him. That he had not protested or pulled away astonished me.

I knew the knob would be locked, but I tried it anyhow. I wondered what Father had done with the key. He used to keep it on him at all times. It was probably with him when he died. He had installed this lock himself and he was the only one who was allowed entry.

Connor gently pushed me aside and knelt to pick the lock. After a moment he muttered something that I guessed was a curse in his language and stood up.

"I cannot unlock it," he announced. "Do you know where the artifact is hidden inside?"

"Not exactly."

He sighed loudly. "Then you must hurry with your search. This will draw attention."

The silence was shattered with a loud crack of wood as he kicked the door. The wood around the lock gave way and the door swung open. I heard the soldiers upstairs react.

Connor pushed me into the office and instructed me to hurry as he disappeared into the shadows. I heard a few clanks and thugs as I pulled out the drawers to the desk and emptied their contents onto the floor. In my haste, one of them broke apart and a cloth sack rolled out of the bottom. I let out a relieved sigh. I picked up the bag.

What was inside was round and the size of ball. It emitted a golden glow and hummed quietly at my touch. I knew it was wrong, but I looked inside. The hum grew louder and the glow brighter as I looked at the strange object. Images filled my head. Images of things I didn't understand, people I didn't know. I saw conflict. War. Then I saw peace. I saw my family, alive and together. I saw Connor as well. He was standing next to child. I'm not sure why, but this made me sad. I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

I jerked back to my senses as I felt a strong hand grip my arm and shake me. I looked at Connor, who was saying my name.

"We have to go now!"

I glanced back at the relic. It's light had diminished and it's music had faded. Whatever it had showed me was gone. I closed the bag and Connor pulled me through the basement toward the exit. He opened the door and three soldiers turned toward us. They aimed their muskets. Connor and I ducked behind a shelf as they fired. He held up his tomahawk as I pulled my dagger from my boot.

"Find another way out!" he told me.

I shook my head. "No, I can fight."

"You have the artifact. Go!"

I begrudgingly headed for the stairs as Connor ran out of cover and toward the soldiers. I didn't see why he had wasted so much time training me if he was just going to send me away.

I was reaching for the handle as the kitchen door opened and a redcoat filled my vision. He paused to regard me with confusion. I didn't wait for him to decide I was a threat. I used a kick to the gut and a knee to the face to knock him off balance. I then brought my elbow down on the back of his neck as Connor had instructed me. He went down and I stepped over his body and headed for the front door.

As I approached the opening between the kitchen and hall, something tripped me and I fell face first on the floor. The artifact and my knife flew out of my hands. I reached for the blade, but a foot kicked it away. I looked up at the face I had seen in my nightmares for the last year.

"You don't need that," Ducain said. "Whores ain't got no use for knives."

I quickly got to my feet and threw my fist at his face. He grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back, laughing.

"I knew you'd come back," he said. "Once is never enough for a wench like you."

Connor had shown me how to get free from a hold like this. I remembered his praise that I had mastered it after only three attempts. I quickly reversed the grip he had on me and spun, driving my elbow into his ribs. He was stunned long enough for me to employ a roundhouse kick that knocked him off his feet.

I could have gotten away then. I had time before he recovered to grab the relic and run out the front door. But I didn't want to. I had promised myself that I would kill him. That was a promise I intended to keep.

I picked up my knife and charged at Ducain.


	9. Chapter 9

I felt the sensation of being moved and my eyes slowly opened. I glanced around and vaguely made out the familiar surroundings of my parents' bedroom through the blurriness. As I began to fully gain consciousness, I noticed that I was lying on the bed and that someone was hovering over me. I began to struggle against Ducain and felt pain as his fist collided with my cheekbone.

I cursed my weakness. I had not been fast enough or strong enough to kill him. He had overpowered me and delivered a blow to the side of my head with his gun which had, apparently, knocked me out for a while.

"Stop your struggling," he said. I felt something cool and metallic against my neck. I rolled my eyes in that direction enough to see that he was threatening me with my own dagger. I felt rage build in my chest.

"I was gonna kill you quick. But now I think I'll take my time."

I felt the tip of the blade pierce my skin. I made no reaction. I was far too mad to feel any pain.

"I will make you beg for death."

"Never." I spit in his face. I was bewildered to see the saliva tinted pink. I guessed my lip was bleeding.

He moved the knife from my throat and punched me in the eye. There was a line of light then blackness before I was able to see out of it again. I didn't wait that long though. I headbutted him as hard as I could. I heard the sickening sound of his nose breaking and relished his cry of pain. I repeated the action and he was knocked off me. He went to his knees, dropping the knife and covering his face. I kicked him where his hands were and he screamed. I picked up the knife and drove the blade into his neck all the way to the hilt. I felt the warmth of his blood gush over my hand. He fell to the floor as I pulled my knife back.

I stood there staring down at his body. He was poised in a hideous fashion, his legs at odd angles. His ice blue eyes were open, but empty. Blood covered his face and pooled onto the floor from the wound under his chin. I remember wondering how long it would take to get the blood out of the wood. It was an odd thought. But I wasn't in my right mind then. I had thought I might be sick at the sight of so much blood, but I wasn't. I didn't feel anything. Not then.

I heard the door open and Connor say my name, but I didn't look up. I just stood there with my eyes fixed on the man I had just killed. I felt a hand take my arm and lead me away. Yet I was still watching Ducain over my shoulder. I didn't look away until I heard glass break.

I looked at Connor and started to ask him why he had broken the window, but he didn't give me time.

"Jump!" he ordered.

I did. I landed hard on the ground below and my knees buckled. I fell, making sure to hold the knife away from my body as I did. Connor landed on his feet next to me. He pulled me up and began dragging me across the yard, toward the field in front of the house. That's when everything came into place.

"Wait! The artifact."

I tried to pull away, but Connor would not stop.

"I have it."

"The house-"

I looked over my shoulder and froze. Connor tugged on my arm, but I jerked away from him. There was dark smoke billowing from the roof and the left side was in flames. I began to run back toward my home. Connor wrapped his arms around my waist and held me tight. I struggled, but he wouldn't let go.

"Stop it!" I yelled. "Don't touch me!"

Connor restrained my flailing arms and said my name.

"Victoria! Stop! Tori!"

When he used the nickname that my father had given me, I stilled.

"There is nothing you can do."

I felt tears build up and I made no attempt to keep them from falling. Connor gradually released me and I sat down. I pulled my knees to my chest and cried as I watched my house burn. I wept in a way I hadn't since my father's death. And once I had started, I couldn't stop. I cried all the tears I had been holding back for the last two years. I cried for my father, my brothers, the house. Mostly I cried for me. For what I had been through and for what I had done. I had taken a life. The life of a human being. A life I had no right to take. The murder did not cause me pain. What saddened me so much was the lack of that peace I had hoped to gain from it. Ducain's death hadn't changed anything. I still felt the anger. The hate. They were just as strong now as they were before.

When I was finally able to stop the tears, I noticed Connor sitting beside me. His elbows were propped on his knees, his hands folded. His hood was pushed back and I could see his profile clearly. He was watching the fire.

"I know what it is like," he said, "to watch everything you have ever known turn to ash."

I wiped my eyes and winced at the pain it caused. Connor looked at me. He used his blade to cut a piece of cloth from his sash and handed it to me. I took it and wiped the blood and tears from my face.

"You fought well," he told me.

I gave him a humorless chuckle in response. I noticed the red stains on his clothes and asked if he was hurt.

"No."

"How did the fire start?"

He took his time in answering. "A lantern was knocked over."

I nodded, feeling guilty. I hadn't paid much attention at the time, but I remembered a lamp falling off the table when I was fighting with Ducain in the living room. That made the fire my fault. I felt fresh tears, but they were not as strong as before.

I looked at Connor for a while. He alternated between watching the flames and looking at me. I wondered what his story was and if he would tell it to me. I wasn't sure how to ask. I felt as if I didn't even know him at all.

"What's your name?" I asked, without being sure why.

"Ratonhnhake:ton."

"Oh."

"My mother was Kanien'keha:ka. She was killed when soldiers burned our village."

"What about your father?"

He looked at me. "The man who ordered the attack on my village. The one who controls Charles Lee and rest of the Templars that I have sworn to kill. His name is Haytham Kenway and someday I will end his life."  
He said this in such a way that I was not sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. I let the conversation falter after that. We watched for a while longer as the flames spread and the roof began to collapse. Then I took a deep breath and stood up.

"Take me home," I said.

Connor got up and led the way back to town. The trip was made in silence. Occasionally, he would wait as I caught up to him. Other times he would fall behind for a bit and I would wait on him. Once he even took my hand. I am not sure if he did this to comfort me or to lead me in the right direction. I'm fairly certain that I walked the entire way in a daze. I can't remember anything I passed or getting home or going to bed.

I awoke some time in the night with a chill. There was no fire burning in the hearth and I didn't feel like lighting one. I curled into a ball and pulled the covers tighter around me to ward off the cool air. I spotted Connor laying on the floor a few feet away, sleeping soundly. He was on his back, one hand resting on his stomach, his lips slightly parted. His chest rising and falling in rhythm with each breath. I watched him, thinking how young he looked. He appeared so fragile and innocent that I couldn't imagine him being capable of the things I had seen him do. Of what he had committed his life to.

I wondered if I looked the same way when I was sleeping. If rest hid the darkness of my soul the way it did his.

I quieted my thoughts and closed my eyes. The next time I awoke, Connor was gone and bright light was shining through the window.


	10. Chapter 10

I rummaged through the ash and charred debris of what had once been my home. There was nothing left. Nothing but a pile of burned wood sunken in a stone foundation. As I began to stand, a glint caught my eye. I moved to the right and shifted the residue until I found the melted hunk of gold that had once been the pocket watch my grandfather Imas had brought over from Ireland with him. It was sealed from heat and the engraved picture was no longer discernible, but I put it in my pocked anyway.

"Did you find anything?"

I stood up and attempted to brush myself off. The task only smeared what grime was on me. I made my way to the edge of the ruins, being mindful of where I stepped, and approached Connor. He held out his hand to me and I took it. He guided me back to the earth and then released my fingers slowly.

I shook my head at him.

I was unsure why he had insisted on bringing me here. I had no desire to visit the site from my childhood, but he had led me here purposefully. I had not opposed him, but followed obediently. If his intent had been to grant me closure, I did not need it. The location of what I had lost didn't sadden me, or make me jealous. I felt no emotion at all coming back here. It never occurred to me that he had accompanied me here because he wanted resolution for himself.

"I am sorry," he said.

I gave him a smile to let him know that everything was all right then went to stand beneath the oak tree where my long dead pet cat was buried. I noticed indentations in the bark and traced them with my finger. I smiled.

"I had just learned to spell my name when I did this," I spoke. I don't know if I was talking to Connor or just remembering.

I released the knife from my boot and etched the sloppy letters deeper. I was aware of Connor behind me, watching me. But he said nothing.

Once I was finished, I wiped the blade on my pants and held it out to him.

"Keep it," he told me.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "You have earned it."

I thanked him and replaced it to it's proper place.

I leaned back against the trunk of the tree and looked at him. His brown eyes wandered the scenery and eventually met mine.

"Does it ever get any easier?" I asked.

"No."

He did not hesitate or think on what answer to give, only told me the truth. I respected that about him.

"When are you leaving?"

Connor looked at the ground. "Before nightfall," he said. "I am to meet Sam at the State House soon."

"I will tell Elizabeth bye for you," I told him. "She will be sad at not getting to see you off."

An abashed smile played at his lips. "She is a nice lady. I did not like lying to her."

"I know."

I could not hide the bruises on my face from Mrs. Adams at lunch. She was insistent on some explanation of what had happened, but there was no way I could tell her the truth. Connor had fabricated the tale of bandits attacking me to pacify her. And as any gentleman would in such a story, he had come to my rescue. Mrs. Adams had been impressed by the lie and by him. She had thanked him a dozen times and offered to repay him in any way he saw fit. He had played if off as nothing, but her fondness was everlasting.

There was an uneasy silence where we both fidgeted idly and waited for the other to speak. It was I who eventually spoke first.

"Can you do something for me?"

"That depends," he said. "What is it you want me to do?"

I suddenly felt embarrassed and considered telling him to forget it. I took a deep breath worked up the courage and quietly asked him to teach me to say his name.

Connor looked at me for a moment with a confused countenance. "My name? Why do you want to know how to say my name?"

I felt my cheeks grow warm and looked down at the ground. I shrugged. "I'd just like to remember it," I muttered.

"Okay."

I looked back at him. He pronounced his name and I asked him to repeated it more slowly. He did. I attempted to repeat it, but failed. He tried to hold back a chuckle at my mispronunciation. He corrected me. After a few more tries, I managed to say it right. Or as right as I could. It seemed to make him happy that I put so much effort into learning his true name. He smiled at me.

"Do you prefer I call you 'Victoria' as Sam does, or 'Tori' like Mrs. Adams?" he asked.

"I only let people I care about call me by my nickname," I told him. "I suppose you've earned the right as well."

"I am honored."

I couldn't tell if he was being serious or coy, so I only smiled at him.

"Ratonhnhake:ton," I spoke.

"Tori," he replied.

"I'm glad I met you."

"I am glad I met you as well."

I took a slow step closer to him. Connor didn't back away. So I kissed him. It was nice. A little awkward and somewhat clumsy, but nice. I pulled away and looked at him. He fidgeted for a moment, glancing around as if unsure what to do next.

"I-I should go," he said. "To meet Sam."

I nodded. "Be safe." My voice sounded timid, but he smiled.

"You as well."

I stood under the tree for a while after he had gone and wondered if I would ever see him again. Once my anxiety at our kiss faded, I went home.


End file.
